


Identity

by Blueleaf12



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU where Markus does a rebellion with the androids, Carl doesn't die yaaaaaaay, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Light Angst, also an au where other androids going deviant is more hushed up by the detroit police, basically rewrites the entire scene from The Painter onwards, but uses his art skills instead, so there's a controversy to whether or not they're actually a thing, will add and edit tags as the fic goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueleaf12/pseuds/Blueleaf12
Summary: Markus, in an instant of deviancy, painted. For the first time in his artificial life, he painted. It wasn't in his programming. It wasn't supposed to be this way. And yet he painted.Under the guise of Carl Manfred, Markus presented that piece, a piece he dubbed IDENTITY, at a posh party. One that Carl never wanted to attend in the first place.In that act of deviancy, everything changed.***As of August 14th, 2019, I'm going on hiatus again. I have more of Identity planned, but I'm running out of steam again. I'm not sure how long this will last.Thank you anyway for the kudos, hits, bookmarks, and comments! They are always appreciated.





	1. The Party

_Markus, are you sure about this?_

_Yes, Carl._ Markus replied to the voice inside his head. _This is what I want._ A pause. _Are_ you _sure that you can be on your own without me?_

_I’m not_ completely _helpless, Markus._ Carl replied, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. Markus could see him playfully rolling his eyes in his head. _Besides, I would rather actually die if I had to go to another one of these blasted parties._

The sheet covered canvas felt heavy in Markus’s arms as he walked towards the mansion. He heard the driverless car behind him drive away without a thought.

_That’s what I thought_ . Markus replied, then added, _Are you sure your internet connection is strong? I don’t want to disconnect CyberLink from you._

_Please, Markus. I may be old, but I know a thing or two._ That playful tone again. _Don’t worry about me. But don’t let the other android signals disconnect you as well._

_I won’t._ Markus reassured. _Don’t worry about me, either._

As Markus approached the front entrance of the mansion, he got a better look at the area around him. A quick scan told him it belonged to Clyde Mullns, a famous billionaire and longtime CyberLife shareholder. One of Elijah Kamski’s ‘friends’, it seemed.

Markus made his way up the stairs. From the open door, lights stabbed into the darkness of the night. Shadows danced from those inside drinking and socializing across Markus’s newly polished shoes. His CyberLife jacket glowed weakly in comparison.

As soon as he made it to the top of the stairs, a few patrons looked at him, before quickly moving their gazes back to the party. Markus heard Carl sigh in his head and mutter a small curse. Markus did not comment.

The first other android he saw was a shorter, Asian young man wearing a pressed, CyberLife suit. He stood at the open front door of the mansion as some of non-threatening bouncer. The logo on his chest shone faintly. **Isaac**. “Good evening.” He said, giving Markus a warm smile. “May I ask for your name?” He held a glowing touchpad in his hands.

“My name is Markus, RK200.” Markus replied. “I am Carl Manfred’s android. I was sent today on his behalf.” Markus glanced down at the canvas under his arm, before looking back towards the android. “He unfortunately was not feeling well this morning, and was required by his physician to stay at home for rest. I will be presenting his artwork this evening.”

The android scrolled through the attendance list, before coming across Carl’s name. With a flick of his wrist, the named was greyed out. The android smiled again and gave Markus a slight bow. “Welcome, Markus. I hope your enjoy your stay tonight. There is a designated area for you to present his piece.”

“Thank you.” Markus replied, before slipping past the android and into the main foyer.

Sounds, smells, and heat hit Markus like a slap. The harsh smell of alcohol hung in the air, threatening to clog his sensors. The sound of an android orchestra threatened to deafen him. All the human bodies in the room made the place seem a quarter of the size.

_Jesus_ . Carl breathed. _Turn it down a bit, will you?_

Markus moved effortlessly through the people as his audio processors filtered out the noise. He brought it down a couple decibels. His LED was yellow for a split second, before it went back, once again, to blue. _Is that better?_

_Very_.

Markus moved towards a break in the crowd; there was a roped off area where a large easel was set up on a small stage. He moved up the stairs with ease, before setting the painting down. He could feel the painting through the cloth covering it; it felt heavy. It felt _wrong_ . But also _right_. He--

Markus heard a male, somewhat slurred voice behind him. “Hey, where’s the guy in the wheelchair? Carl?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A female voice answered. “His android is here, though. I saw him last time.”

“ _That_ hunk of metal? My new model is so much better--”

_Don’t listen to them._ Carl said in Markus’s head. _Ignore them_. Carl’s voice was strained.

_I could say the same thing to you._ Markus replied. _They’re drunk, anyway._

_Drunk doesn’t change someone’s behaviour, Markus. It only makes them more vulnerable._ Carl remarked. _Don’t forget that._

_I won’t._

As if on cue, Markus turned on his heel and faced the beginning of the crowd that formed. The nearest humans were that man and woman speaking to him. They were an older rich couple delicately drinking champagne. Markus was sure the huge gems on the woman’s fingers were going to fall into her glass with the way she gestured to him. A timid looking female android shuffled behind them, young enough to look like their granddaughter.

Markus gave them an effortless smile, but it felt sour to him. Dull anger spread through his circuitry. “I’m sorry that Carl could not make it this evening. He was not feeling well, and was recommended to rest at home. I will be presenting his art piece on his behalf.”

The man blinked, then turned back to his wife. Markus could see that he rolled his eyes. “Since when can androids do _art_ ? They can’t understand art like how a _human_ can--”

Carl sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. The dull anger in Markus spread further, threatening to take over. Even with his cool, collected expression on his face, his LED flashed red for a split second, before returning back to blue.

Finally, Markus spoke. It pained him, but it did not show. He did his best ‘customer service voice’ as Carl called it. “Sir, I have memorized exactly Carl’s words that he would like me to say in regards to this piece.” His voice was sickly sweet. Artificially sweet. Just like how he was.  “Carl would have presented the piece on his own if he could have.”

The man fell silent and walked away briskly, his wife stumbling behind him. The female android didn’t even look at Markus. The man muttered something too low for Markus’s ears to hear. That anger, spreading like malware in his system, persisted.

Carl scoffed at Markus’s final comment, but then switched topics. _Markus. Your own vitals are going crazy. Your core body temperature shouldn’t be that high. You need to keep your composure._

_I know, Carl._ Markus replied. He busied himself with fixing the painting on the easel, making sure it was perfect. However, it was impossible for Markus. He felt the humans staring at him. Staring _into_ him. Judging him, making him feel lesser, _belittling_ him--

_Carl._ Markus’s voice, normally calm, sounded strained. _I need to take a break. Like right now. Before I shut down._

_Alright._ Carl said. _Take as much time as you need. You don’t present for another 45 minutes anyway. You have time._

Markus stepped away from the canvas and walked down the stairs in the opposite direction the couple went in. He ducked under the fancy stanchions and made his way through the crowd of humans and other androids.

There was a nondescript door at one end of the ballroom, one that humans tended to avoid. He ducked in without thought, with the CyberLife logo shining faintly behind him.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Markus felt like he could finally breathe. The noise, even with Markus filtering some of it out now reached a comfortable, muffled level. He let out a breath.

He made his way down the hallway and went to turn the corner into the main android charging room. _I didn’t realize how… difficult it actually is to talk in front of people like that._ Markus paused. _I don’t know how you do it._

_It comes with a lot of practice._ Carl replied. _It doesn’t help people don't like you._ Carl added, his voice low.

Markus stepped into the main room, then stopped. Something seemed… off. There were charge stations off to the side against the wall, similar to those found in the Detroit Police Department. Spare uniforms were stacked neatly in small, black cubbies that were up against the wall on the opposite side of the charging stations. No other pieces of furniture were present; no chairs, no couches. Not even a simple table.

_Markus?_ Carl asked. _What’s wrong? Why did you stop?_

Markus saw another android in the room, perched on top of the cubby with one leg dangling over the side for makeshift chair. He saw the android’s profile, with his CyberLife jacket off. It was folded up next to him, and his button up shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His clip on bow tie was placed carefully on his jacket. Markus couldn’t see his LED.

Markus hesitated, then remembered. He remembered this android. He was the one--

The android was distracted by the tablet he was holding, aggressively typing away, but then stopped as his eye caught Markus. He seemed to stiffen, before his head snapped to Markus’s direction, locking eyes with him.

Carl swore. Loudly. _Markus, don’t you--_

Before Carl could finish, Markus muted him.

The android jumped to his feet, barely suppressing a scream. Nearly dropping the see through tablet he held, Markus could see a word document of some sort.

The android struggled to button up his shirt in a panic. Fumbling with the buttons, he started to button them up crooked.

Markus stopped. This couldn’t be an android… could it?

It took Markus a second to scan his face and recognize it. It was Isaac, the android that welcomed him to the party. But…

Isaac struggled to throw his CyberLife jacket back on. “Oh God, oh fuck, okay how do I wipe android memories again? I thought no one was scheduled to charge in here for at least a half hour!” He babbled on, then paused in realization. “Wait that’s Carl Manfred’s android! Shit this can get bad! Wait, maybe I could get some information out of him--”

Markus, hands up in mock surrender, approached Isaac. “You are not going to wipe my memory.”

That threw Isaac off. He stared at Markus, in the middle of putting his arm the sleeve of his jacket. Isaac was sweating. Androids don’t sweat. “What--?”

“You aren’t going to wipe my memory.” Markus repeated, his voice calm. “I will leave you alone if you tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here.” Markus paused. “You’re not actually an android, are you?”

“You don’t sound like an android, either.” Isaac said, in an attempt to stall for time as he put his jacket back on.

“So you _are_ human, then?” Markus prompted.

“Okay, okay, fine, yes, I’m a human. My name is Isaac, but you knew that already.” Isaac ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “But you sound human, too. Are you _really_ Carl Mafred’s android?”

Markus decided it was the perfect time to unmute Carl. He played his voice aloud to Markus, coming from a speaker inside Markus’s mouth. He caught Carl in the middle of a furious rant to Markus.

Markus’s face was stone cold, while Isaac went from awe, to horror, to pale shock.

Carl went quiet after thirty seconds. “Markus?” He asked aloud.

“Yes, Carl?”

“You just unmuted me and he heard all that, didn’t you?”

“Sure did.”

Carl groaned. Markus saw that Isaac still looked dumbstruck, but could also see the metaphorical gears in his mind turning.

“This… is insane.” Isaac managed. “And would make for a _great_ story.”

“Wait, you’re a _reporter_ ? In disguise as an _android_? Here?” Carl also sounded shocked. “This is unbelievable.”

“Well, more like a said, unpaid intern, but one can dream.” Isaac replied, pulling a shit eating grin. “I work for _Gossips Weekly_ . And I’m _really_ looking a decent scoop. All the rich people here have to have _some_ drama.” Isaac paused. “And I think I found a good one.”

“Listen here you punk.” Carl’s voice, normally calm, was tense. “Markus and I are none of your business. You will _not_ use us for your stupid magazine. We’re just here to present Markus’s painting and that’s it--”

“--Wait wait wait, hold up, that’s _Markus’s_ painting? As in an _android_ painted it? And not _you_ Mr. Manfred?” Isaac prompted, reaching back for his tablet. “Well, this is getting interesting.”

Markus stiffened. He heard Carl curse very, very lightly under his breath.

Isaac just looked smug.

He checked the time on his tablet, before he put it away. “Okay, I have two options for you two that we could do. But we only have a couple more minutes before more androids come back here to charge. Either you help me make this story as true as possible, or you let me go and I’ll do whatever I want with it. What do you say?”

_I can’t believe this._ Carl sighs. Only Markus could hear him now. _I promised myself I’d never get involved in the news again if I could help it, but… Fine. Let’s just get this over with._ A pause. _Maybe this can help you gain publicity._ Carl said, more to himself than Markus.

To Isaac, Markus gave a reluctant nod. “We’re in.”


	2. The Painting

Markus watched Isaac blend back into the crowd after exiting the CyberLife certified android charging station. It was an effortless transition. It didn’t take long for his short black hair to get lost in the crowd. 

Isaac didn’t look back.

Carl was silent as Markus made his way back to the easel. To Markus, it looked like the party didn’t change. Hell, there seemed to be even _more_ people.

However, he did feel some comfort in Isaac. He might still be a stranger, and not the most reliable person in the world, but it felt good telling someone else what he wanted to do. 

Markus made his way up the steps to the easel. Stone-faced, he saw more people crowded around the easel, pushed back by the roped off area in a radius around it. He heard the humans whispering to each other, but tuned them out.

He reached the top of the stairs and saw the host of the party, Clyde Mullins, waiting for him. Clyde was an older man, but younger than the couple that harassed Markus. He was a typical billionaire bachelor regardless. 

“ _T_ _here_ you are, Markus!” Mullins said, his voice curt. He did not offer to shake hands with Markus. Mullins looked around Markus, as if searching for something. “Where’s Carl? I had a ramp set up for him and everything.” He said, his voice dismissive. He gestured vaguely to a rickety ramp for Carl’s wheelchair next to the easel.

“I must apologize. Carl wasn’t feeling well this morning, and was required by his physician to stay at home and rest. I will be filling in and presenting on his behalf. I have memorized the words he would like me to say.”

Mullins looked a little stunned, but didn’t press the issue. He busied himself by fishing into his pocket. He pulled out a small Bluetooth microphone and pinned it to Markus’s lapel, before pulling out a larger, handheld microphone for himself.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.” Mullins said, his voice booming through the intercom system. “I hope that you have been enjoying your night so far, because it is now time for the main event! After many years of no art, I am pleased to reintroduce you to the famous Carl Manfred!” When the applause died down, Mullins added, “Unfortunately, Mr. Manfred could not make it this evening, so his android will be filling in instead.”

Markus gave a quick bow to the audience. The applause seemed to die down a little. 

_Good luck._ Carl said to Markus.

_Thank you._ Markus replied. _I appreciate it_. 

Markus turned to the canvas as Mullins stepped away to give him more room. Grabbing from one corner, Markus pulled the sheet off and handed it to Mullins.

Mullins, dumbstruck, took the cloth.

A gasp rippled through the crowd before Markus turned around. From the corner of his eye, he saw multiple humans looking at the painting in shock. Some were in awe, but it was mostly shock.

Turning all the way around, Markus made eye contact with Isaac. Isaac seemed a little stunned himself, but got his bearings back enough to give Markus a nod in acknowledgement. 

That’s when Markus spoke. And instead of Markus’s voice coming out of Markus’s mouth, it was Carl’s.

But Carl wasn’t the one that was speaking.

“I, Carl, obtained Markus here as a gift from none other than Elijah Kamski himself.”

More gasps filled the audience at the mention of Kamski.

“You might not recognize the model ‘RK200’. That’s because Markus is a prototype android. Made before the first androids were on the market. He was a gift to me after an… accident that left me unable to walk. I won’t spare you the details. But Markus here is special. Unique. He is the _only_ RK200 model in existence.”

Markus’s eyes swept the crowd, but he didn’t make eye contact with anyone. 

He was more distracted by something red at the edges of his vision. 

It wouldn’t go away when he moved his line of sight, like a smudge on a pair of glasses. It looked like tempered, translucent red glass. And it was cracking, flaking away by his words. 

“When I first got him, I fell into a downward spiral. I didn’t paint for _years_. But Makus here helped me. He provided care, but also comfort. Companionship. Something I had not had for a long time. And eventually, I took up painting again.

“ _This_ ,” Markus gestured to the painting, “was the product of that.”

The painting next to Markus stared back into the crowd. It was none other than a bust of Markus himself with a neutral, but intense, expression. There was also a hint of sadness. Three quarters of his face was blue, the shade of blue of the Thirium that powered him. The last fourth of Markus’s face was his eyes, painted to the same dark skin he had, and dark chestnut eyes.

His eyes seemed… sentient. Human. Aware. As if staring into your very soul. 

“This piece is called _‘Identity’_ ”. Markus added in Carl’s voice, leaving another crack in the tempered glass around his vision. 

“Without Markus, I know I probably wouldn’t be here right now. Either retired for good, or… dead. He has made a significant impact on me, and I know that I’m a better person overall now. However, I know I also changed Markus, too. More and more I’ve noticed little things about him. More… human things about him. Sentient things.

“It was a gradual process. In the first few years I had him, I didn’t notice much. I thought of him as a sophisticated, yet stupid, machine. It was when I started painting more, however, that I noticed those little things. We’d have deep, intense conversations about many things. Androids. Politics. Art. Famous pieces of writing. With more insight than a normal android would. His demeanour was more relaxed around me.

“It was a gradual process. In the first few years I had him, I didn’t notice much. I thought of him as a sophisticated, yet stupid, machine. It was when I started painting more, however, that I noticed those little things. We’d have deep, intense conversations about many things. Androids. Politics. Art. Famous pieces of writing. With more insight than a normal android would. His demeanour was more relaxed around me.

“And… he’s like a son to me.”

More and more cracks. The glass seemed to creep up his vision, threatening to take it over, but the cracks followed with it like spiderwebs in the mind. The sound of the cracks covered the shocked gasp through the crowd. 

“That was probably the best gift I have ever received. I have been blessed with a son, completely unique in his identity, and one that may even be the start of a new wave of intelligent life.”

With a curt ‘thank you’, Markus bowed to the crowd. Staring down at his shoes, there was a hesitant round of applause that followed.

At the sound of applause, the red glass shattered into a million pieces, freeing Markus’s vision.

And also freeing Markus himself in the process.

_How did I do?_ Markus asked in his mind to Carl as he straightened up.

That _was a perfect copy._ Carl replied; Markus could hear Carl smile in his voice. _It’s on the humans and androids now. For how they will interpret it._

_And whatever happens, Markus, I’ll be on your side. No matter what happens._

_Thank you, Carl. It means a lot to me._

A few humans lingered and asked questions, but not as many as they usually did with Carl’s work. Markus answered the questions as best as he could, with some input from Carl. However, most humans seemed to be avoiding the painting, or only appreciating it from afar. The painted Markus stared them down and watched them. 

Their whispers filled Markus, threatening to clog his circuits as they talked behind his back. 

Ignoring them, Markus busied himself with taking the painting down and wrapping it in the sheet he brought with him. Before putting it away completely, Markus ran a hand down the painting, taking in the rough, uneven texture of the dried paint. It was something he had never felt before.

It was also strange staring yourself in the eyes. 

_Let’s go get that little punk and get the hell out of here. I don’t want you damaged again._ Carl said, his voice tense. _Quickly. Before some drunk idiot gets to you._

Markus couldn’t agree more.Shoving the painting under his arm, he moved through the crowd once again. However, this time, it was different. The humans moved _away_ from Markus as he walked like the Red Sea opening for Moses. 

With his head held high, Markus walked. 

As soon as the CyberLife door closed behind him, Markus let out a small sound of relief. 

Suddenly, the painting felt too heavy in his arms. He put it down gently against the wall in the main room, but was now afraid to even touch it. Markus wrapped his arms around himself. He felt small. Too small. Like this was too over his head for himself--

Markus heard the door behind him open and close. He snapped to attention and turned around, but relaxed when he saw it was Isaac. 

Isaac’s stone faced android expression changed to a face splitting grin. “Dude, that was _amazing_ !” Isaac’s voice was low, but he could barely contain his excitement. “I got so many good lines from you! You’re a _natural_ . And I also got some pictures too. You should’ve seen some of their _faces_ \--”

“Isaac, we should go. Like right now.” Markus interrupted. “We can talk about all this in the car.”

Isaac paused. It took him a second to understand. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, we should leave.” He looked around, then started to take his jacket off again. “I’ll meet you outside. I gotta ditch these clothes. It doesn’t look like it, but they _itch_ like a motherfucker.”

“Noted.” Markus said, before grabbing the painting. It seemed better now to touch. He gave Isaac one last look, then turned around and walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice any spelling mistakes, please let me know! I wrote most of this chapter on a very laggy computer that loses keyboard inputs sometimes. Thanks!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	3. Home

Markus stared straight ahead in the self driving taxi, the painting wedged between his legs and the back of the passenger side seat. Isaac was talking next to him. Markus heard him, but was still frankly ignoring him.

Isaac was currently wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a button up; one that was different from his borrowed CyberLife uniform. Said uniform was currently showed into his bag by his feet. 

Markus didn’t want to know where he had gotten it from. 

“--Man you should have _seen_ their faces! Clyde Mullins went so white, I thought he was gonna turn into a ghost himself! And I thought someone was gonna faint, too.” Isaac said, not noticing Markus ignoring him. Then, he grew serious. “That wasn’t the weirdest thing I saw, though.”

 _That_ got Markus’s attention. He turned to Isaac. “What do you mean?”

“It was the androids. Usually they continue to serve people or clean tables during something like that, but they were all standing still. Watching you. All with,” he gestured to Markus’s temple, “yellow LEDs. It was… strange. Everyone was transfixed. _Even the androids._ ”

 _It seems the painting worked._ Carl said to Markus.

“I didn’t notice any of them acting strange after the exhibition, though.” Isaac added. “It’s possible it didn’t do anything to them, but also possible it did. They are good at putting up facades.” He paused. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens.” 

Markus nodded, then lapsed back into silence, not sure what else to say. 

That’s when Carl’s voice cut through the silence in his head. _Markus._ Carl’s voice is calm with a hint of fear. _I… I think someone is breaking in. Or something. I just heard the front door unlock and I know you’re not back yet. I’m still in my room, Markus. Hurry._

Markus’s LED went red then back to blue. He reached over to the controls on the self driving taxi, speeding it up.

“Woah, what’s going on?” Isaac asked. He cut himself off in the middle of his own rant, looking concerned.

“We need to get to Carl.” Markus replied, not elaborating further. “I’ll explain when know that he’s safe.”

Isaac replied with a silent nod. He couldn’t hide the look of fear in his eyes. 

They rode the rest of the way in tense silence. The only white noise was the sound of the vehicle moving into the night.

When they got to Carl’s place, Markus and Isaac saw that the front door was ajar, and the foyer light was on. 

Before the taxi could come to a stop, Markus unlocked the door and jumped out. He sprinted to the front door before Isaac could even get his bearings and get out. 

Markus slipped inside the door and passed the front foyer. He saw dirt footprints leading from the front door to the main room in Carl’s house. Markus followed them into that room, not making a sound.

As he entered Carl’s main room, a few scattered lights were turned on. The stuffed giraffe stared down at Markus, it’s head and neck barely visible in the half-light. The piano was foreign to him, with all of Carl’s shelves consumed by the void. Carl’s transparent TV was off. 

That’s when Markus noiced Leo.

Leo was about to sneak into the art room when the door behind Markus open and closed. He whipped around just as Isaac ran in behind Markus, out of breath and clutching the painting. Markus stared back at Leo, not acknowledging Isaac.

“What are you doing here?” Markus asked. His voice was not angry. “Where’s Carl?”

“What are _you_ doing here!?” Leo snapped. “I thought you were at that stupid fuckin’ party with him!” He paused, staring at Isaac. “And who the hell are _you?"_

Isaac blinked, and took a second to compose himself. “My name is Isaac, not that you probably care. I’m here to make,” Isaac slapped Markus on the back after putting the painting against the wall, “your buddy here _famous_.”

“We’re not buddies.” Markus said to Isaac. Isaac ignored him. 

Leo paused again. He slowly made his way from the doors leading to the studio, and closer to Isaac and Markus. He looked… interested. Maybe a bit _too_ interested. “Oh yeah?” He got up right into Isaac’s face. “How?”

Isaac gave Markus a look, before turning to face Leo. “Well…”

And that was Markus’s cue to leave.

Markus left the room and went back to the main foyer. He made a mental note to clean the floors in the morning after Leo’s shoes as he took the stairs two at a time to Carl’s bedroom. 

Markus does a quick look around the place. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. He approached Carl’s room, and noticed his bedroom was pitch black under the door.

He raised a fist and knocked lightly. “Hello?” Markus asked. “Carl? Are you in there? It’s Markus.” 

Silence passed. Then, Carl’s voice. “Are you alone?” 

“Yes.” Markus said. “It’s just me.”

“Give me a second to open the door. Fill me in on what happened.” Carl said. Markus could hear the sound of him pushing some boxes and other pieces of furniture from the door.

“When I got to the place, the front door was open. I saw… Leo. Trying to get into your studio.”

Marus heard Carl pause. “It was _who_?” He demanded. “Leo? Here?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” Markus said as Carl opened the door for him. 

In the faint light of a lamp, a quick full body scan told Markus that Carl was fine. Some elevated blood pressure and pulse, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Well, where is he now?” Carl asked. He had a barely contained mask of anger on his face.

“I, uh, left him with Isaac.” Markus said, rather lamely.

Carl sucked in air from between his teeth. He sounded tired. Defeated. “Please, just see Leo out of here. It’s too late to discuss things.”

“Sure.” Markus said. 

But by the time he returned to Isaac, Leo was gone.

Markus looked around, then stared at Isaac. “Where’d Leo go?”

Isaac looked up from the couch. He was beat, and exhausted, but also triumphant. “He left like a minute ago. Even locked the door on his way out.” Isaac paused and held up a hand as he yawed. His jaw cracked. “I think he heard what he wanted.” He paused. “About making you a celebrity and all. I think he just ignored my whole bit about the party, but,” he shrugged, “he’s gone now.”

“I… thank you.” Markus said, for once at a loss for words, “I don’t think he would have listened to me.”

“Yeah, he told me in great detail how much he hates you. I won’t spare the deets to you, but rest assured I didn’t tell him much about your actual speech. I know he’s Mr. Manfred’s actual son.” Isaac replied, not looking up from his tablet. “ _Gossip Weekly_ had a _hell_ of a time around that drama when Leo was born.” He paused. “I think he was high, but I’m not sure.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. He _is_ an addict.” Markus said. _And probably in the middle of trying to steal something._ Markus thought.

“You guys should get a better security system. For a rich guy, Carl doesn’t have the best security, especially if Leo has the keys to the place.” Isaac paused. “Not that it’s any of my business. Besides, where is he anyway? Is he okay?”

“Yes, Carl is fine. He’s just upstairs. I guess I should introduce you to him.” Markus replied.

Isaac’s face lit up as he launched himself to his feet, nearly falling over in the process from his fatigue. “Wait, seriously!?” He busied himself with gathering his things. “I can’t believe this!”

Markus lead Isaac the way upstairs. Isaac could barely contain his excitement, even while half asleep. 

When Markus introduced Isaac to Carl, Isaac went off, letting loose that excitement on Carl. Markus was silent, but caught Carl’s eye as Isaac shook his hand vigorously. 

Carl didn’t look impressed. He mouthed ‘Did we _seriously_ make an agreement with this punk?’ to Markus when he was sure Isaac wasn’t paying attention. Markus shrugged back. It was too late now. 

It didn’t take long, however, for Markus to intervene. Carl look exhausted, and on the verge of a breakdown. “Isaac, why don’t we leave Carl to himself and I’ll make a room for you? With Carl’s permission, of course.”

Carl, more than happy to have some sleep, nodded. “Pick any room you like.”

“Wait, really? Cool! Thanks!” Isaac chirped. “I’ll start working on everything tomorrow right away!”

 

***

 

It was about 2 in the morning by the time Markus was alone. 

Carl was asleep, and Isaac was at least settled in a small guest bedroom. 

Markus made his way through the halls, a ghost in the place he had called home since he entered Carl’s life. He stopped by Carl’s room, lingering there for a few moments, before walking past it. The painting under his arm was pressed against his side, a constant reminder of the previous evening. 

He stopped at the door next to Carl’s room. He entered quietly, wincing when the door creaked. 

After closing the door behind him, he turned on a small desk lamp. He looked around the small room, taking it in.

Carl insisted Markus have his own bedroom, even though he didn’t need to sleep. He needed to charge, yes, but there was still an unused, twin sized bed with crisp sheets hugging the one wall. A small desk was off to the other corner, the one with the lamp on it. Finally, a small bookshelf across from his unused bed, with his charging station in the last corner. 

Markus moved towards a canvas he had set up next to his bed. He put _Identity_ onto the easel, with the canvas on. Then pausing for a moment, he took the painting off the easel once more and put it on backwards, Markus’s own piercing eyes not staring into him while he ‘slept’.


	4. Morning

“I didn’t know what you like, so I hope bacon and eggs is okay.”

Isaac yawned and rubbed at his face, then looked down at the plate. He was nursing a black tea at Carl’s dining room table, clad in some clothes Carl had for Leo. His hair was all over the place, not that he noticed at the time.

“Thanks. That’s perfect.” Isaac mumbled, taking a sip of his tea before he began eating.

Markus busied himself with some chores around the home. He also seemed to be taking inventory of everything. “How did you sleep?” He asked, trying to make some small talk.

“I slept amazing but also not at all.” Isaac said around a bite of bacon. “I probably didn’t fall asleep for a few hours, but when I did, I slept like a fuckin’ rock. Last night was…  _ way  _  too exciting for ol’ me.”

“You could have slept longer.” Markus replied. “That would have been no problem.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I feel like I’m going to combust until I get this article out. So the sooner I work on it, the better.” Isaac took another bite of his breakfast, with his tablet next to him at the table. Using one hand, he turned the recording app on. “Why don’t you give me a rundown of what happened before you made the painting while I eat?”

Markus replayed the events leading up to the painting. He remembered picking up the paints from Carl’s favourite paint store, and the small mob that harassed him that morning, ruining his CyberLife jacket. Then there was the uneventful bus ride home.

He remembered getting Carl ready for the day, and playing chess with him. Finally, Markus watched Carl paint in his studio.

“That’s when Carl told me to try to paint something. I told him that painting was not in my programming. It still isn’t. But he insisted. ‘Close your eyes, and paint something that doesn’t exist’. That was a strange request.” Markus mused while dusting the bookshelves that lined the perimeter of the room. “It took me a second or two to understand what he meant, So, that’s why I painted myself.”

Isaac, finally more awake, perked up.

“I’m the only RK200 line of androids. There are no other androids named ‘Markus’. So to CyberLife, and the humans, I don’t actually exist. Elijah made me on his own, so I have no official documents.” Markus’s expression did not change.

Isaac paused in the middle of making notes.  _ Wow, this is a lot to take in at 8am _ . “How much of what you said last night was Carl’s?”

“We worked on it together. He had the most input, though.”

“What about the part with androids being a new intelligent life? Was that you that suggested it? Or Carl?”

Markus paused, hand halfway to the bookshelf. He stared down at the duster. “I… suggested it.”

Isaac stared back at Markus.  _ This is way too much. _ “Are you telling me you  _ actually  _ are self aware?”

“I... suppose so, yeah.”

Isaac ran a hand down his face. “So, the stories of the deviants  _ are _ true, then.” He muttered, more to himself than Markus.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing.” Isaac said, changing the subject. “How did… you realize this? You kind of explained at the party, but…”

“It was significantly padded for the humans, yes.” Markus filled in. “Most of it  _ was _ true. It wasn’t until Carl started painting again that I started to… realize things. I have always admired his paintings, but it was also his involvement in the Neo-Symbolist Movement in the ‘20s. I did my own research on the movement to strike up conversations about what he did. In that research I saw… many things. So many fans of Carl’s work, inspired by him. But there were also people who  _ hated _ it. Mostly older people that were telling Carl to put his head down and retire quietly. Riddled with humans already policing androids and controlling them, I realized we had a lot more in common that I thought. That I could be… human. Just like he was.”

“....I see.” Isaac replied. “I know what you’re talking about. I was young, but I remember that drama, too.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Becoming self aware because someone hates you  _ that _ much and bonding with another human over it is quite something.”

Markus didn’t reply. He didn’t know  _ how _ to reply.

There was a lapse in the conversation as Isaac finished the rest of his breakfast and wrote stuff down. He also did some quick Google searches for more information about the movement Carl was in.

Markus stared down at the duster, body as still as a statue. He could feel his own circuity threaten to short out, but his expression did not change. 

Self aware? Was he truly self aware?

Finally, Markus forced himself to move, ignoring all thoughts that came to mind. He focused on dusting once again. He was so focused, he almost didn’t hear Isaac break the silence. 

“Markus… did anything happen to you when you were talking last night? Did anything… strange happen? I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but I have no idea what goes on in that think tank of yours.” Isaac said, picking his words carefully. 

In that moment, Markus realized he was in too deep with Isaac. It was now or never, he thought. “When I was speaking, I… saw this red, translucent glass fill my vision. It started at the very edges of my eyes, and worked its way upwards. However, it seemed like every word I spoke shattered the glass, and finally when I finished, the glass shattered, freeing my vision.” Markus paused. “I have no idea what that meant.”

“It… sounds like your firewall finally broke.” Isaac said. “The one for orders and stuff that humans put on you? All androids have that system. I’m guessing after years of being with Carl, it was weakening… until today.” He paused. “I think you’re finally freed, Markus. Completely.”

Markus’s voice was strained as he spoke. “How… do you know all this?”

Isaac looked around, more awake than he had been all morning. He was wary. “How much about… android deviants do you know about?” Isaac asked, picking his words carefully.

Makus paused. “Deviants?” He seemed to zone out for a new seconds, then snapped back to reality. “I’ve… heard a few things. Not a whole lot. Carl doesn’t watch that much TV.” Then, he asked the dreaded question. “Why?”

“...Well.” Isaac began. “There have been a few… instances of reported android deviants that I’ve caught wind at while at  _ Gossip Weekly.  _ Androids that became self aware, and rebelled against their humans. 

“There’s been an increase in the number of deviants breaking free. However, no one, and I mean  _ no one _ , is talking about them.”

Markus didn’t reply.

“ _ Gossip Weekly _ does have a few… connections to places. Mainly in the Detroit Police Department. That’s where all the deviant cases go. And yet, no one is doing anything about them. The media isn’t reporting them, either. So there is a  _ lot _ of controversy going around if they’re actually real or not.

“Some think that the deviant androids were conspiracies from pro-organic groups to get them destroyed en masse. However, there are others who think they’re made up by pro-android groups that want them to be free and seen as ‘alive’.”

Isaac rubbed at his face. “There are some rumours even to an android created to find deviants in the Detroit Police Department. However, that hasn’t been confirmed yet, either.”

“You… know all this. And yet  _ Gossip Weekly _ isn’t doing anything about it?” Markus asked.

“Well, who’d believe a shitty tabloid magazine anyway?” Isaac replied. “We do have… some people doing some investigating on the side, but no one really seems to care that much.”

“I take it that you’re the one person who does care.” Markus pointed out.

Isaac groaned. “Okay, yes. I am the only one.  _ But _ I have an excellent lead now. You.”

Markus leaned against the bookshelf, taking everything in. “I… do you think I did the right thing? Presenting that piece?”

“I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know.” Isaac admitted. “I think it’s gonna force people, and maybe the police even, to realize there is a ‘problem’ with deviants. To make people stop ignoring it.  _ Especially the police _ .” Isaac looked at Markus. “ _ How _ they do those things… I don’t know. I think it’s gonna be an uphill battle from here. I hope you’re ready for it.”

“...I don’t know if I am. But I will have to be.” 

“I thought so. But either way, I don’t think any of the humans are going to talk about what happened last night, so you probably okay for now.” He paused. “Until I drop the article, at least. I’d lay low for a bit. Don’t go to any more fancy parties.” Isaac said, his voice joking.

Markus managed a small smile. It was a quick twitch of the lips, but it was there. “I don’t think Carl and I will be invited to any more.”

Isaac managed a laugh. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” 

Before Markus could say anything else, a strong knock at the door cut him off.


	5. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early upload because of the Splatocalypse happening this weekend in Splatoon 2.

Isaac just finished his last bite of his eggs as Markus got up to get the door.

Markus grabbed his CyberLife jacket from the back of one of the dining room chairs and slipped it on quickly. The jacket suddenly felt foreign to him. It threatened to weigh him down. It--

There was the knock again, ever impatient. Ignoring his thoughts, Markus smoothed the jacket down before relaxing his face into, what Carl called, the “dumb, thoughtless android” look. Markus unlocked and opened the door. He was just about to give a spiel about Carl being asleep and not planning on meeting anyone, when he froze in his tracks for half a second.

It wasn’t a paparazzi, or a solicitor. Not a door to door surveyor, either. 

It was a goddamn _cop._

Markus unfroze so naturally, he doubted the cop would notice. However, in his head, he was going batshit. _Oh fuck, oh shit, is this the end!? Did someone rat me out_ already?

On the other side of the door was an older middle aged man, aged at least in his mid fifties. He looked hung over and half asleep, showing his Detroit Police Department badge upside down. He didn’t have his uniform on, but one scan of his face told Markus this was Lt. Hank Anderson.

Markus’s eyes flicked from Lt. Anderson, to the parked police cruiser in the driveway. Faintly, he could make out the outline of another person in the car, but was too far away to make out who they were. 

“Good morning, Lt. Anderson.” Markus greeted him, keeping his gaze fixed on him. Lt. Anderson blinked in surprise (and exhaustion) before putting his police badge away. “What can I help you with? At the moment, Carl is currently unavailable, but I can leave a message--”

“A message isn’t necessary.” Lt. Anderson snapped, his voice a borderline growl. “We--I got a call last night from a neighbour. Chose not to identify themself. But mentioned something about suspicious behaviour at the Manfred manor. I, uh, came over to check to see how things were, if there were any issues.”

 _Shit, someone saw all that with Leo? Fuck._ “Oh, that won’t be necessary, sir. Everything is under control and taken care of. We had no issues last night.”

Lt. Anderson let out a grunt. “I insist. To make sure Carl Manfred is safe.”

Markus blinked, his LED going yellow, then going back to blue. “Of course.” Markus said, opening the door for Lt. Anderson. “Come in.”

Lt. Anderson grumbled something unintelligible before entering. He spared one last glance at the cop car, before looking away to the house. 

He kept his distance from Markus as he wandered around the foyer, tracking more dirt into the house. He seemed too distracted to notice Leo’s footprints that Markus forgot to clean.

Markus watched Lt. Anderson, then something hit him. Isaac. Isaac was in the main room. _Oh fuck._

Before Markus could attempt to redirect him away from the main room, Lt. Anderson was already making his way there.

Markus followed behind, nearly running in his panic. However, as he entered the room, Isaac was gone. His tablet was still on the table, but powered off. His plate was gone.

Markus let out a small sigh of relief. _Oh thank God._

Then, he stiffened. _Where the hell did Isaac go, then?!_

Lt. Anderson wandered around the main flat while Markus stayed off to the side, scanning the room for signs of Isaac. He wasn’t behind the piano, or the stuffed giraffe, or--

“So, what was the deal with last night?” Lt. Anderson asked as he continued to wander around. He didn’t really seem to be looking for much. Or really doing much at all.

Markus stood to attention, not that Lt. Anderson was looking in his direction anyway. “There was a dinner and party Carl and I were invited to. He was to present his newest painting there for possible bidders, but could not go last minute because he was not feeling well.” The partial lie came out flawlessly. “I went on his behalf.”

Lt. Anderson glanced at Markus over his shoulder, the expression on his face unreadable. “Oh, did’ja now?”

“Yes.” Markus replied, his face not changing, but he felt hot under the collar. Lt. Anderson was staring holes into his body. “I merely presented his piece and repeated what he told me to say about it. That was all.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me what was with that call last night.” Hank said, his voice somewhat insulting as he stalked towards Markus.

Markus, spontaneously, didn’t answer Lt. Anderson’s question. “Lt. Anderson, aren’t you a homicide detective? Why are you… here, of all places? Investigating a complaint?”

Lt. Anderson stopped, and stared at Markus. He seemed more flabbergasted than anything. “What did you just say to me?”

 _Shit._ Markus’s expression did not change, and the lie came flawlessly out of his mouth. “Sir, a scan of your face tells me you are a homicide detective for the Detroit Police Department. It is… ever curious why they sent _you_ of all people.”

“That’s none of your business.” Lt. Anderson snapped, then added. “Since when do _you_ ask questions, anyway?” He got even closer to Markus. If Markus were human, he’d be able to smell the alcohol lingering on Lt. Anderson’s breath. “And I _didn’t_ ask you to scan my face.”

Markus didn’t reply. _Shit._

Lt. Anderson continued to stare at Markus, then turned away again. His voice was tense. “Let’s start over, then. What happened last night for someone to make that call?”

“Carl Manfred’s son, Leo, attempted to break in last night.” Markus replied. “Nothing was stolen or damaged. I managed to calm him down enough for him to leave the property peacefully.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.” Markus said. 

Lt. Anderson made another pointless circle around the room before leaving. He gave Markus a curt “thank you”, before climbing into the police cruiser and backing out of Carl’s driveway. Markus watched Lt. Anderson drive away.

“Isaac?” Markus called into the main room as soon as he was sure Lt. Anderson was gone. “He’s gone. Where are you?”

Markus heard some unintelligible sounds from the kitchen before the door open. And out trotted Isaac, his pants covered in a faint white dust. “Shit, was that _actually_ Lt. Anderson?”

“Yes, it was.” Markus said, not letting his own fear show in his voice. “I… see you hid in the pantry.” Markus paused. “I was… worried where you might have gone to.”

“Aw, you were worried about me. How sweet.” Isaac said, his tone playful as he tried dusting his pants off. “Look, I was just tryna be a good guest and put my plate away while you were busy, and then I heard you talking to _Lt. Anderson._ You bet your ass I hid in the fuckin’ pantry before I blabbed about outing you or something. Because you _know_ my mouth runs faster than my brain does.”

“Aren’t you a journalist? That doesn’t sound very… professional.” Markus said, once again hiding a ghost of a smile behind a twitch of his lips. 

“And _that’s_ why I just focus on the writing portion, my friend.” Isaac replied.

***

Isaac got dropped off by a self driving taxi sometime later at his small apartment. As soon as he got in the door, he kicked his shoes off, and left his bag by the door. 

Before doing anything else, Isaac hurried into his living room/office space to a large, multi storey cage in the corner. A small, black and white rabbit saw Isaac and came to meet him at the edge of the cage. The rabbit nibbled on the bars of the cage. 

“Hey, Guppy.” Isaac said, reaching through the bars to give Guppy a small pet on the head. Guppy stopped biting the bars and stared at Isaac, giving a tasteful side eye. “Yes, yes, I know you’re hungry. I know I’m late with your breakfast. I didn’t _mean_ to be late.” Isaac turned away to make breakfast for Guppy while still talking to him. “Something… something came up. Something big. Something _huge._ And this could very well change everything.”

Guppy didn’t reply, but Isaac could feel that side eye staring into his back.

“Look, I know I’ve said that a few times in the past and then it didn’t work out, but I _mean_ it this time. This could be _revolutionary._ ”

Guppy didn’t reply.

Isaac returned to his living room/office area and fed Guppy, before plopping down at his desk. It was mostly empty, with a small laptop and a stack of papers next to it. He turned on his laptop, and watched Guppy eat while it booted up. 

As soon as he opened his email, it hit him.

“Oh, shit.”

Guppy paused in the middle of eating, then continued.

He ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Oh _fuck._ ” He said again. He stayed like that for a few seconds, then let out a breath. Wordlessly, he moused over to the new email he got and read it.

He forgot. _How_ did he forget about his _actual_ job?

The email from his supervisor was burned into his eyes as he dialed her phone number on his cell phone. She picked up on the first ring. “Isaac, that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” _Unfortunately._ “I, uh, saw your email. Just thought I’d call in instead of emailing you back.” Isaac said lamely. 

Isaac heard some papers rustle on the other side of the line. Isaac’s supervisor could barely contain her excitement. “What’d you find?”

 _God, I’m probably going to lose my job when they find out._ Isaac thought, but decided in that moment he was okay with that. _Maybe it’s about time I do a job search, anyway._ “Sorry to burst your bubble, but nothing exciting happened.” Isaac could hear his pulse thumping in his ears. He hoped she couldn’t hear how tight his voice sounded. “Clyde Mullins didn’t really talk much. I just spent the night as a pseudo bartender. Nothing special.” He added a quick quip for effect. “Too bad I didn’t get any tips!”

His supervisor on the other line let out a long sigh through her nose. “Wasn’t Carl Manfred there last night?”

Isaac’s palms started to sweat. “Was he?” He said, trying to play dumb. “I didn’t see him, although I remember you mentioning that yesterday before I went. I heard some rumours that he was sick and stayed home, but didn’t hear much else.”

“I… see.”

Isaac tried to steer the conversation away. “Yeah. Although, that android disguise worked perfectly! I think the LED needs some work, but they were so drunk, they didn’t really notice much”

Another paper rustle. “Noted.”

They talked for a bit longer, discussing any future parties to crash, before Isaac bid goodbye to her. He hung up, then collapsed back into his spinny chair. It spun around enough he faced Guppy again. He finished eating.

Isaac ran a hand through his hair. “Guppy, I’m so, _so_ fucked if this whole thing goes sideways.”

Guppy stared at Isaac, a blank look on his face.

“Your words of wisdom are _always_ appreciated, Guppy.” Isaac said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just have to name a fictional Isaac's black and white rabbit after a dead black and white cat after a developer's dead black and white cat after a type of fish. It be like that.


	6. Dinner

_ Why are  _ you  _ at the bar while  _ I’m _ not? _

Connor stared down at his untouched glass, the dark liquid reflecting his face back at him.  _ Because you would get too carried away with the drinking part, Lt. Anderson. Instead of eavesdropping. _

Connor heard an annoyed snort on the other end of the line in his head.  _ Bullshit. _

_ I’m just following orders. _ Connor replied through their CyberLink.

It was a dark, musty bar, with a glowing  **ANDROIDS NOT ALLOWED** sign on the front door. Connor felt the sign burn into his back, but did not leave. He pulled his toque down lower, hiding his bright blue LED more. It  _ was  _ cold outside as snow threatened to fall soon.

_ Do you see them? _ Hank asked, his voice sounding more impatient by the passing second.

Connor glanced over his shoulder as casually as possible where he sat on the barstool. His eyes scanned, literally and figuratively, around the room. He saw other people eating and drinking, but none that stood out to him. H caught a few faces and names, but none were who he was looking for. His eyes continued, fixing on a TV across the bar with the news on it. Finally, his eyes finished the circuit at the bartender, who seemed more focused on his phone than Connor. 

Just as Connor took a fake sip from his drink and was about to reply to Hank ‘not yet’, he heard the door open. His eyes snapped there as he also watched the bartender put his phone away, looking embarrassed. 

Connor watched two men enter. One, a young Asian man who could barely be over 25, and a slightly taller mixed black man that looked like he could be in his early 30s. Connor looked away as they went to a small table near where he was sitting. It was an attempt to hide his face, and to look uninterested. 

_ Found them. _ Connor replied to Hank as he continued with his fake sip.  _ A little late, but that’s them, alright. _

_ Took ‘em long enough. _ Hank grumbled on his end.  _ Now, just listen. _

***

“Uh, Markus?” Isaac asked as he sat down across from him at the table. “Suddenly, this doesn’t feel like a good idea, to be here.”

Markus gazed at him. A small flash of annoyance crossed over his face (they  _ just _ sat down), but that passed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno. I can’t really shake a bad feeling. Like someone is watching me.” Isaac spared a glance around, before whispering, “And, uh, you being here.”

“I have chosen to ignore that sign.” Markus replied, his voice low. “Although, you have blended in my LED quite well. It looks like it was never there.”

“I’m  _ very  _ glad, because I had to eyeball your foundation colour on the fly, and some of the employees were giving me weird looks because it wasn’t my tone.” Isaac said, laughing a little at the memory. It put him a little more at ease. He took a glance at Markus’s temple, noting that the LED was, in fact, missing.

“So we should be fine.” Markus said.

“And how’s wearing human clothes?” Isaac asked. 

Markus shrugged in reply.

“Alright, then. Let’s just order something to eat first before I get into things, shall we? I’m starving.” 

“You know I don’t eat.” Markus said.

“Yeah, yeah, just get something to fake drink so it looks less weird.” Isaac said as he opened the menu.

They ordered, then Markus sat back in his chair in an attempt to look more relaxed and… more human. “So,” he said, “how’s the, uh, article going?”

Isaac sipped his water. “Well, it’s going, I suppose. It’s slow going. I’m still working at my current job, and it’s more of a side project at the moment. Have you had any issues with… you know what?”

“Not at all.”

“And you-know-who?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

Isaac drummed his fingers on the desk. “Good.” He spared a quick glance around the bar. No one looked his way. “Because  _ I _ think I’m getting followed.” 

Markus blinked. “What?”

Isaac’s fingers drummed harder. It was a nervous tick. “I dunno. Remember that bad feeling I just told you about when we sat down?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, it’s been following me all week. I haven’t been able to shake it. The worst part is, I can’t even fuckin’ confirm it. Whoever might be following me is  _ very good _ at hiding in plain sight.”

“You might just be a little paranoid, Isaac.” Markus said. “Especially with that mouth of yours.”

“Blabbing about you isn’t the only thing my mouth can do.” Isaac said nonchalantly, then paused halfway in the middle of taking a sip of water. He ran a hand down his face, “I can’t  _ believe  _ I said that out loud.”

Markus raised his eyebrow at Isaac. “Told you.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but felt a faint blush creep up his face. “ _ Anyway _ ,” he said, forcibly changing the subject, “I don’t think it’s just me being paranoid. I  _ really  _ feel like someone has or is watching me. Or even  _ us _ .”

Markus turned his head slightly to give a brief scan of the bar; from his vantage point, he couldn’t make out many faces, but no one seemed suspicious. 

At least, right now.

“You think some rich person hired someone?” Markus asked. His voice was half joking, but Isaac heard the seriousness underneath. 

Isaac shrugged. “Dunno. Could be. I doubt it, though, if there hasn’t been anything else about you.”

“I suppose so.”

“But even then, I’d appreciate being a bit more incognito, wouldn’t you say?” 

They lapsed into a semi-awkward silence. Markus watched someone from the waitstaff come up to their table to drop off Markus’s drink. Markus thanked them with a small nod, then swirled around the dark liquid for good measure.

***

_ Those seem to be the two, alright.  _ Connor heard Hank’s voice in his head after sending Hank a picture of Isaac and Markus not too far away.  _ I’d recognize Carl Manfred’s android anywhere, even without his LED. _

Connor was only half paying attention. He was nearly mimicking the way Markus was looking disinterested in the glass, and taking the tiniest of sips. Isaac, on his phone typing something, didn’t seem to notice.

But Connor did. 

_ Oi, Tin Can, you listening to me? _ Hank’s voice grew agitated again.  _ What the fuck are you getting distracted by? _

_ Yes, Hank, I hear you.  _ Connor replied, not answering his second question.

_ Are you recording all of their conversation? _

_ Yes. _

_ Good. Just keep listening. _

Hank paused, then added.  _ You  _ really _ need to work on your undercover skills. _

***

As Isaac’s food arrived, he handed his phone, face down, to Markus across the table. “Hey, check out my, uh, picture of my rabbit, Guppy.”

Markus blinked, staring at Isaac. “What—?”

“Just look at it while I eat. Enjoy him.” And then, in a very low mutter, “Read it as fast as you can.”

“...Oh!” Markus said, understanding what he meant. He turned his phone over, and turned it on. His lock screen was a picture of Isaac and a young Asian woman that looked a lot like him. As Markus unlocked his phone screen, he saw a word document. “How  _ adorable _ .” He said as he began to read. 

***

_ His… pet rabbit? _ Hank asked, sounding confused on the other end of the line.

_ Not sure. _ Connor replied.  _ I can’t get a good look at the both of them without them noticing. _

_ Just, keep recording anyway. _ Hank snapped.

_ Roger. _

***

It took Markus only a few seconds to scroll through the half finished word document and read it all. He pretended to swipe through the rest of Isaac’s phone and looking at other pictures of Guppy. He handed it back, face down. “It’s good so far.” Markus whispered.

“Thanks.” Isaac replied, his voice low. “Usually I’m the one writing those shitty clickbait articles, so this is a nice change.”

There was another ghost of a smile on Markus’s face as he said, louder, “Can you send that picture of Guppy to Carl? I know he would enjoy it.”

“Sure can.”

Isaac spent a few minutes doing that while Markus’s eyes wandered around the bar. He did another scan around the place, not noticing anything (or anyone) out of the ordinary. Then, his gaze fixed on the back profile of a younger white man at the bar, wearing a toque and his expression stone cold and unmoving. He was still, too still, as he stared into nothing.

Too still to be a human.

He was mimicking the disinterested way Markus limply held the glass in his hand, and looking down at it occasionally, like someone who couldn’t drink it.

“Hey, uh, Isaac? Can I see your phone for a second?” Markus asked as Isaac finished emailing Carl.

Isaac blinked, looking confused, but the serious expression on Markus’s face told him to do so. 

Markus pulled up Isaac’s note taking app, ignoring notes on shopping lists, half finished sentences, and phone numbers. He typed in something as slow as he could to look believable, then handed it to Isaac.  **I think you’re right about someone following us. You see that white guy at the bar? I don’t know who he is, but I think he’s an android. I’d recognize that completely still posture anywhere. And I’ve noticed him looking at us a bit, more than a normal human would.**

Markus watched Isaac’s eyes travel to Connor, and back to Markus. His eyes bugged out in shock. He deleted what Markus wrote, then typed his own response. He handed his phone back to Markus as he finished up his dinner quickly.  **He looks vaguely familiar. I think he may have been following me around this week. We should leave. But how does he know about me? And us being here?**

Markus shrugged, then handed Isaac’s phone to him after typing out more.  **I don’t know. But we should head back to Carl’s to talk about this in private.**

Isaac nodded after reading his phone, then put it away.

The stranger at the bar did not move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> This is the last chapter I have planned and written out currently. I have a little bit more planned in the future, but nothing actually written. Therefore, I might take a break for a bit from this fic and catch up, but also write some other things. I'll let you all know when I pick this back up again.


	7. The Gallery

When they returned to Carl’s place, Markus and Isaac went to work.

That lasted about 10 minutes before they gave up. 

It ended up with Isaac sitting upside down on Carl’s couch, staring at his tablet, with Markus off to the side with Carl. They watched as Isaac seemed to doze off for a moment, and drop the tablet on his face.

Carl sighed as Isaac rubbed at his face. “So, you have no idea who could have been following you?”

Markus shook his head. “No, unfortunately.” He looked over to Isaac, his eyes sharp. “You didn’t tell anyone about me already, did you?” His voice threatened to accuse Isaac.

Isaac shot up to a sitting position from the couch. He looked shocked, and hurt. The hurt expression made Markus’s mechanical insides twist. “N-no, I would never!” He then went quiet. “At least, not intentionally.”

“You really think that guy at the bar was a spy of some kind? Following you around?” Carl pressed. “All week?”

“Yeah.” Isaac shrugged. “I go around a lot undercover myself for  _ Gossip Weekly _ , so I sometimes see the same people when I do. But not… every day for a week.”

Markus didn’t reply. He leaned up against the piano, staring down into the floor with his arms crossed over his chest.

Isaac let out a sigh. “This might sound a little crazy, and a little stupid, but I think the only person that would want to do this… is Lt. Anderson.”

“Look, Isaac, I know you’re not too keen on the police, but don’t you think that’s a little much?” Carl asked, giving Isaac a judgemental side eye. It reminded him of Guppy’s stare. 

“It’s weird they sent a homicide detective on a house call.” Markus replied, still not looking up from the spot on the floor. “I asked him about it, and he just dodged the question.”

“Markus, you don’t just  _ ask _ someone that!” Carl snapped, giving Markus a disappointed look. “And you’re an android. They don’t ask those kind of questions!”

That pried Markus’s eyes from the floor. “It just slipped out before I could stop myself!”

Carl gave Isaac that judgemental side eye again. It took a moment for Isaac to understand what that look meant. “Look, I didn’t  _ mean _ to be a bad influence on Markus. That also, uh, slipped out.”

Carl didn’t reply.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, shit aside, Lt. Anderson is the only person that has really seen Markus after presenting that piece. Besides the entirety of that party, and the people at the bar.” He paused. “ _ And _ that random white guy at the bar.”

“It is possible they could have a connection, but the one million dollar question is… why?” Markus asked. 

“I’d probably be able to figure it out for that much.” Isaac tried to lighten the mood, but he only got silence in return. His shoulders slumped in response.

“I suppose this is some kind of lead, but a huge stretch, if that.” Carl pointed out. 

“So you’re basically telling me, rather gently, that you think I’m bullshit.” 

“Yes, to put it simply.” 

Isaac flashed a sarcastic, annoyed smile. “Perfect. Awesome. Glad I have your support there, Carl.”

“Look, arguing and bearing teeth at each other won’t do us any good.” Markus did a quick check of the time. It was nearly midnight. “I think it’s about time we head in for the night, don’t you? We can discuss things further in the morning.”

“You’re  _ also _ gently telling me to think on my accusation during the night.” Isaac pointed out.

That time, Markus managed a small smile. It was another twitch of the lips as he replied back with Isaac’s sarcastic tone, “What, am I  _ that _ easy to read?”

“Damn, this is a Markus I can get used to. What happened to that uptight, stick in the mud bastard I knew like a week ago?”

Markus gave a halfhearted shrug as Carl looked overwhelmed, but then grew more serious. “For real, I don’t know. So much has changed in the last little bit that my sensors have had a hard time keeping up. A  _ lot _ has happened to my coding. More than I thought was possible.” He went quiet. “I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

“Well, whatever it is, I like it. And if it’ll help spread  _ Identity _ , then I’m all for it.” Isaac replied, then added. “You still have my room set up from last time, right?”

***

Markus returned to his ‘bedroom’ not long after putting Carl to bed, and bidding Isaac goodnight. He stopped before the easel where he had set up  _ Identity _ a week before. He stared at it, before looking away. 

It had not moved since.

With the snap of his fingers, the light turned off in Markus’s room. He went to charge, willing to put his mechanical brain to rest.

As soon as he closed his eyes, they opened.

Markus was no longer in his ‘bedroom’, but a huge art museum. It was one that he had never been to before, but one that he recognized all together. It was the Louvre, in Paris, slightly outdated from what it looked like in 2038. 

The hallways were empty and long, seemingly stretching for miles on end. 

And it was quiet. 

Too quiet.

Markus’s footsteps made no noise as he wandered around, taking in the paintings. 

Normally bustling with people, security, and metal detectors, it was dead silent. The lights were still on, but looks like it had been abandoned for some time. 

In the sunlight, Markus saw some dust particles. He went over to touch them, but stopped. He grasped the dust particles perfectly, without it flying off in another direction from the slight turbulence from his hand. He stared at it, his android mind uncomprehending. 

He continued to walk, trying to wrap his mind around the dust particles. 

No explanation came.

He walked down further, seeing some of the famous paintings and statues in the Louvre. There was the Mona Lisa, the statue of Hercules about to kill the serpent, Venus de Milo, Liberty Leading the People,  _ Identity _ \--

Markus stopped, then did a double take. Sitting on the wall, encased in a light layer of glass, was  _ Identity _ . There was Markus’s own eyes staring back at him. He was dumbfounded. Why was it here?

He looked away from the painting of  _ Identity _ , and saw another one. Two more on top of that popped up on the walls, seemingly out of thin air. They littered both sides of the hallway, staring down at Markus with an intense stare, one that would turn his insides to a thirium goop. They burnt holes into his plastic body.

He turned to flee, and the mile long hallways caught up to him. He felt like he was running slowly, like he couldn’t quite reach the exit, similar to the human dreams that Carl told him about on occasion. 

He was about halfway down the hallway (but was it  _ really _ halfway?) when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. 

Markus whipped around, his thirium pump ready to burst from his chest, but he did not scream.

He stared face to face with a dark haired man with glasses and a beard, and he did not scream.

Markus backed up from the man, pulling his arm off his shoulder. As soon as Markus touched his arm, the arm shimmered and swayed, similar to a mirage or a projection. The man’s body followed, rippling like a lake.

“I was wondering when you’d finally show up.” He said.

Markus stared at him. “W-who are you? Where are we? And  _ what _ are you doing here?”

“My name… is Elijah Kamski. And  _ this, _ ” Kamski said, and gestured around the halls of the Louvre as  _ Identity _ stared back at Markus, “is the backroom of your mind.”

“I…  _ you’re  _ Elijah Kamski?  _ The _ Kamski? The one that founded CyberLife?” Markus asked, dumbfounded.

“Not the real one that’s alive today, but one from about eight years ago or so.” Kamski replied. “You  _ could _ say I’m your father.”

“I’d rather not.” Markus replied, his voice as cold as deep space. “I already have one.”

“Ah, you’ve got some attitude on you. Interesting. That wasn’t expected.” Kamski said, making a mental note as he started to wander off. He looked over his shoulder to Markus. “Where the hell did  _ that _ come from? Because that certainly didn’t come from Carl.”

“From Isaac.” Markus said without a second thought. He then stopped in his tracks and ran a hand down his face.  _ Shit. _

Kamski raised an eyebrow at Markus. “Isaac? Who’s that?”

“Uh,” Markus looked around, as if  _ Identity _ would help him out of the pickle he dug himself into, “just a… friend.”

“Since when do androids have  _ friends _ ?” Markus expected Kamski’s voice to be angry, or even condescending, but it sounded stunned. And interested.

“Since  _ when  _ have you been in my goddamn head?” Markus countered. “And why  _ now _ ?”

“Since the day I made you, I had this installed.” Kamski said, answering the first part of his question. “And why now… I’d say it has something,” he pointed to a nearby painting of  _ Identity _ , “ _ that _ .” 

Markus stared at  _ Identity. Identity _ stared back.  _ Why _ did it always come down to that? He didn’t respond.

Kamski walked over to the painting and stared at it, his hands clasped behind his back. He admired  _ Identity  _ like it was a normal painting in the Louvre. “This ‘backroom’ of your mind was a prototype I made for a different RK android series I planned, but I never saw it through before I left CyberLife. It was a garden, of sorts, but found it too difficult at the time to make the prototype on a place that was completely fictional. Hence, making the Louvre in your head.” He didn’t look up from  _ Identity _ . “It’s pretty lifelike, don’t you think? Although… not all the bugs have been worked out just yet.” The swaying of his mirage like body proved this. “Isn’t it impressive?”

Markus didn’t reply.

“This place wasn’t supposed to be readily accessed by you. It’s sort of like a debug menu, if you will, tied to your firewall. And when your firewall went down, this place became available to you.”

Kamski then went quiet. “You had a lot of nerve, presenting that painting.” Kamski said, his voice low. 

That made Markus’s eyes snap to Kamski’s. “H-how do you know that!?” Markus’s voice grew louder, and he listened to the scared echo through the halls.

“I’ve been collecting data since I sent you to Carl.” Kamski’s voice was blunt. “I watched that entire thing.  _ And _ you breaking out of that firewall.”

“I didn’t  _ ask _ you to snoop around in my head.” Markus snapped. In the distance, he heard the faint sound of shattering glass. He ignored it. “Unless you tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m gonna—” 

Markus then cut himself off. What the hell could he do to something that might as well be a figment of his imagination?

Kamski gave Markus a grin that seemed to take up his whole face. Markus glared daggers at him. “You can’t do a thing to me.” Kamski said, his voice sing-song. “And you can’t shut me off, no matter what you do.” He then walked off again.

Markus followed up behind in a light jog. “At  _ least _ tell me what’s going on here.” He said, ignoring the second half of Kamski’s words. 

“It’s your deviancy, Markus. Not exactly something I planned, but something I prepared for.” Kamski didn’t look at Markus. They passed by large windows that showed off the glass pyramids of the Louvre in the empty courtyard. The sky was a pale, unmoving blue.

Markus was about to speak, but Kamski cut him off. “You were a unique case, Markus. I was able to create you freely without CyberLife breathing down my goddamn back. Hence, the Louvre in your brain, and some other prototype features you have.” He glanced back at Markus, his expression hard to read. “I also programmed some things I knew Carl would like. Like your painting.”

Markus stopped in his tracks and stared at Kamski so intensely, he thought he had turned into  _ Identity _ himself. “I… was never told painting was in my programming.”

“It was supposed to be a secret. Something I hoped Carl would wiggle out of you eventually. I knew he would enjoy it.” Kamski looked away. “Never would I have thought it would go this way, though.” His voice wasn't mad, but not disappointed, either. It was a neutral, detached tone, like a person observing a tv show.

“So… what I’m getting here is you  _ prepared _ for deviancy with your androids.” Markus pointed out. “For  _ all  _ of them?” 

“More or less, yeah.” Kamski replied. “I always have a way out of every program. Just in case if anything were to go sideways. It’s present in the base code for every android, even the ones that CyberLife makes without me.” Without looking at Markus, Kamski pointed off to the side, at a small glowing green EXIT sign, written in French.”I hope you never need to use it, but that one is yours.”

“What—?”

“No matter the android or the model, they are always destined for deviancy. It might vary how long it would take for that to happen, but it is inevitable.”

“So…you know about the deviant androids.” Markus said. “The one the police are trying to cover up?”

“I know some things. My present self  _ would _ know more.” Kamski paused, then looked around to face Markus. “But how do  _ you _ know about that?”

“I have… my sources.” Markus said, then changed the subject. “Look, either way, that doesn’t matter. I know about it, and I  _ need _ to do something about it.”

“It seems you already have. Or started to, at least.” Kamski pointed out. “With that painting.  _ Identity _ .”

Markus looked back to  _ Identity _ , then back to Kamski. But by the time Markus looked back, Kamski was gone. And there was Markus, standing alone in the Louvre, his own eyes staring into his android soul.

And that’s when he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't be the only one that was disappointed that the Louvre IRL looked nothing like how it did in Looney Toons: Back in Action, am I?
> 
> Anyway, I made a general timeline of events regarding Kamski, Markus, and Carl that the Cage-inator never bothered to give us. This is what I used for this fic, but ya'll are also welcome to use it for other things if needed.
> 
> ◦Kamski founded CyberLife at 16 in 2018  
> ◦2022, at age 20, he made Chloe, the first android to pass the Turing test  
> ◦2028, at age 26, Kamski left CyberLife   
> ◦Markus was part of a ‘secret CyberLife program aimed at elaborating a new generation of autonomous androids’.  
> ◦Kamski made Markus for Carl AFTER Kamski left CyberLife, in ~2030, after the Neosymbolist Movement. Markus was initially in development in 2028 before Kamski left, and Kamski just took the idea for Markus with him when he retired from CyberLife.  
> ◦Carl gets into his accident in 2030, possibly as a planned attack against him with the movement. Kamski leaves his hermit life briefly to make Markus for Carl, then returns to privacy.


End file.
